from the memoirs of the sarge
by hashhana
Summary: short memoirs one of Cuy'val Dar, pre-CW... english version...
1. fear

FEAR

I begin to feel irrational fear.

I wake in the middle of the night - fearing that something's wrong. I'm putting on my clothes hastily and I almost run to my boys. They are all peacefully asleep and I'm scolding myself that some stupid feeling is making fool of me... Again.

But I'm not leaving right away. I'm standing here, an hour or so, and I watch them sleeping. They are breathing steadily, someone is mumbling under his nose. I can't recognize the words, but it doesn't matter. So I'm standing here like a cold and motionless statue, savouring this moment of peace, but I'm not peaceful completely.

This fear often comes at night. Sometimes I'm thinking that tomorrow I will not see those clones. That the Republic will recall them, and although they are not fully experienced and trained boys, the Republicans will load them on ships and carry them away from this watery planet. Maybe that's why I'm coming here? Maybe it is that I must be sure that everyone is here and nobody will not take them fom me - Republic or some Kaminoan cloner. Sometimes I think that Kaminoan technicians are lurking to my young men like the butcher to the defenseless animal. They are always coming like that: from nowhere, with their statistics and

other rubbish, telling me that this or that clone is "not good" or "crippled" in some way. And then my blood is running faster and I'm angry. During daily drill I can ignore those cloners, send them away, laugh at them. But in the night, where the clones are asleep, those Kaminoans are coming again, but I'm not there. That's why I can't sleep. Fear awakes me, not so irrational, as I'm pretending it is. I'm afraid.

I'm afraid to lose those boys.


	2. poor hopes

POOR HOPES

I wasn't angry that Sev told no one about his problem. I was angry, because he could LOSE his sight forever, thanks to his stupidity!

And what I could do then? Leave him to the "care" of the Kaminoans. Be serious.

I could strike his name off the recruit's list. And then what? I could take him to my home, but what about the rest of Delta boys? What about his brothers? Could separate them or take all of them? Whatever I will do, it will be bad choice. How could I take care of one or four of them, if there's so many more! What about the rest of the kids? "I'm sorry, clones, but you are able to fight, so wait here for the glorious Republic war?"

It would be unfair... but I considered this problem many times. Worst scenario, people could laugh at it, but it's better to expect this possibility. If something could be done that time, how much I will be prepared to risk? Do I have courage to take all of them and get away from this damned place?

Sometimes I hope that the Kaminoans would cut their contract with the Republic or the Republic will cut it's contract with them. Doesn't matter, if only we, the

Mandalorian Cuy'val Dar, can leave this place, with the clones as a souvenirs. I would take all clones under my care to my old home. It's not big enough to give shelter for hundred people, but we can live there until they grow up. I would build two more wings to my home to have more space for them, but... it's only my poor hopes.

These hopes are all I have.


	3. message

MESSAGE

My boys are standing in front of me. Everyone.

Today I will take them to the other place where they will train. It's not a standard gym, made by cloners. My unit knows that nothing is ordinary with me. So we coming far from the barracks, lower and deeper into Kaminoan city. I found this room accidentally when I walked with my strill. It seems that Kaminoans are cloning not only Fett's genes.

I'm opening the door and I let my boys in. With a wide smile - I can allow myself that, because my face is hidden under the black helmet - I see their eyes opening wide, shocked. The kids are looking around them not sure what to do, first time they can see natural environment, not a sterile, odorless holoprogramme. They greedily inhale sweet and rich smell of green grass or big exotic flowers. Almost everyone is nudging Gahhare - jelly flower, which shakes under lightest of touch or - if someone will jump on it - changes its shape and quickly returns to its original state. It's good for jumping - you can feel you are on the trampoline.

And although I know that the clones would like climbing low trees and see another part of this "forest" chamber, we haven't time for this. We are beginnig hard training. And so I spend next hours, without remorse, looking at them, when they are training hard.

But I can feel characteristic vibrations which make me to look on my protector of left hand. My comlink is active. I'm going away from my excersising clones and under the wall I send data from my comlink to my helmet.

I've got the message. I'm stopping for a moment and reading carefully word after word and the clones discreely are watching me. I straight, turn to them and irritaded tell them that I must go for half and hour. I tell them they musn't waste time and do the excersise again and I'm leaving without a word.

When the door closes, I'm going away few steps. I can hear footsteps when the clones are training. I know that it will take 5 or 6 minutes, no more. As I suspected they are silent now. After another minute, maybe two, I can hear muffled sound, which suddenly turns into a loud noise. This reminds me of children who are playing light-heartedly when they are alone. I can hear their muffled laughter, and characterictic "poof" when someone jumps on exotic jelly plant. I know the clones are using their time for a games, not for their excercises, but I'm standing near the wall. I'm looking on my chronometer in my helmet - minutes are going

away slowly. I'm waiting for the time to pass.

In fact I didn't received any message


	4. waiting

WAITING

There are times, where we, the sergeants, are completely helpless, and this passive state is driving us mad. Yes, today is one of those days, when the cloners are performing "quality tests" issued by superior authority, to find out how the clones are doing. If they will be too weak, they will not survive. We can't prevent it, we can't even watch those tests. All we can do is to sit there and wait. So we are waiting, all of us. Some of us are going to and fro, others sometimes are kicking closed doors or sterile white wall with helpless rage. But most of us is silent, in deep thoughts.

My strill isn't with me. The atmosphere of heavy waiting lies upon us, Mandalorian Cuyval Dar, and I know that Mird feels bad when it senses that mood. I feel bad in this state too. Not for I'm impatient, but because I can't free myself from bad thoughts. In my remembrances I return to the days of training of my clone warriors and I'm trying to find my mistake, which can be reason of their deaths. I feel that I did so little, that I could teach them more. That I failed them... in some way. And so seconds are now minutes, minutes are hours, and every hour is stretching to an limitless eternity, full of fear and helplesness.

Beside me sits Kal Skirata, a man with whom I'm almost always arguing or fight him. It's easy to find out we aren't vode or close acquaintances, but today none of us is looking for the brawl - in words or in fists. Today we both are anxious, we both know that somebody can die. Even all of our boys can't survive. And we, the warriors, ironically, are those helpless people who can only wait.

Finally one of the cloners arrives and says that it's over. Everyone of us is hurry and we are coming to the room. My nostrils are feeling scent of fight, smoke obscures the view, but I can't wait for the smoke to clear. I'm marching lenghtwise of soldiers, standing alert. I see the clones standing side by side, hand to hand, but there are some blank spaces in their rows. Somebody didn't survived.

I quickly come to my soldiers. The boys are dirty and in ruffled clothes - some are wounded, but they are all definitely alive.

For the first time from a long time I'm smiling. I will not wait for permission or words or gesture from the cloners. I'm turning around and leaving - and with me my clones. I can feel jealous looks from other sergeants - all of my men survived again, and I would not mourn anyone. I can hear chattering of one of my clones - from cold, fear or maybe tears of pain. But I will not turn around to rebuke anyone. Not today.

Only few more meters and will be in the barracks. My boys can sleep peacefully, not worrying for tomorrow. Nobody will mourn nobody. Not in my unit.

But I know luck is not eternal. Sooner or later the Republic will come for its clone soldiers - legal slaves.

And I will wait for this moment, as helpless as today.


End file.
